


Bandages and Binders

by CaptainJimothyCarter



Series: Winterhawk Bingo [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Author is trans, Clint Barton Feels, Clint Barton-centric, Clint avoids medical, Deaf Clint Barton, Drunk Tony Stark, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mention of slight transphobia, POV Bucky Barnes, Protective Bucky Barnes, Slight Angst tho, Trans Clint Barton, Trans Guy Clint, WinterHawk Bingo, clintbucky - Freeform, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27478537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainJimothyCarter/pseuds/CaptainJimothyCarter
Summary: Bucky learns some new facts about Clint that Clint doesn't think he knows. Clint isn't that good at hiding his emotions or the fact that he's pushing people away, and avoiding med bay. Bucky just wants to know why and tries to help the stubborn archer.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Winterhawk Bingo [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891774
Comments: 10
Kudos: 129
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo Round Two





	Bandages and Binders

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not bind with ace bandages if you can avoid it. If you find yourself needing to use ace bandages to bind with, then please, please be on the side of caution and be safe.
> 
> Used for Winterhawk Bingo: Trans Clint

There was Clint again, holding his side as if it pained him and he bet it did. The guy took a pretty hard fall from the top of a building after an explosion and landed on his side on top of a car. Barton being Barton, he insisted he was okay and waved off Bucky and Tony’s concern, but there he was, still holding his side. Bucky watched as the blonde lifted the tactical shirt up a few inches, spotting a rough, old bandage wrapped around his skin. The damn bandage looked ancient and knowing Barton, it was. The guy had a problem with letting go of old things. 

Lifting the bandage up, he pressed three fingers to his inflamed side, cursing and swiftly pulling his shirt back down when he saw Bucky watching him. Bucky just shrugged and turned on his heels, not wanting to get into it with Clint at this matter. If the guy wanted to avoid medical, that was on him. Be it on his death bed.

Not that Bucky wouldn’t worry. Fuck, he did enough worrying for Steve when the guy was nothing but a little 5’4 shrimp and weighing 92 pounds soaking wet, but Clint? Clint was gonna be the death of him, he was sure of it.

“Is he okay?” Steve later asked him, his lips barely moving. His eyes were trained on Barton who now laid on his better side, an ice packet bulging under the shirt. 

He couldn’t help the frown tugging on his lips as he looked up from the Stark Tablet, metal fingers tapping on the screen. He could feel the jet rumbling underneath their seats, watching Clint shift a fraction of an inch when the jet made a noise.

“How should I know?” Bucky grunted with a heavy shrug. Steve’s hard look told him all. “I don’t know. He fell a few stories, landed on some sap’s car. I offered to carry him, take him to medical, but y’know Clint, he’ll lose a limb and still insist he’s fine.” 

He paused, unsure if he should tell Steve about the old bandages under Barton’s shirt. It wasn’t his place and they didn’t look like they were causing the archer any harm. So maybe it’s best to just let go.

“You two grandpas know I can hear you right?” Clint grumbled from the makeshift bed of thrown-together shock blankets. “I ain’t deaf. Well, not much anymore.” The bruised fingers tapped on the Stark-designed aids, sharp enough to pick up even the smallest of sounds and challenged Steve’s hearing. “I’m fine. Stop worrying. It was just a fall.”

“Only you would say that,” Bucky grumbled, rolling his eyes and setting the tablet aside. He was getting no work done. “Sure, kid, and I’m the Queen of England.”

“Thought that was Carter,” the blonde yawned, slowly sitting up. His face had drained of all color, causing the freckles dashing across his cheeks to stand out. Normally Bucky loved those soft sun-kissed freckles, but right now they just reminded him of how hurt Clint must really be.

“Even dead, Barton, she’s gonna make you pay for that,” Bucky mused. “Not even death can keep that woman down.”

“So if a stapler flies across the room at you, you know who it was,” Tony laughed, suddenly appearing over the banister and looking down at them. “Speaking of, Stevie, you need me to look at that burn on your backside? Barton, you need medical attention too.”

Bucky enjoyed Steve’s ears turning a shade of pink at the nickname, raising a brow as Steve got up from the seat. The large blonde just shrugged his shoulders at Bucky as if to ask  _ so what?  _ before following Tony upstairs. 

“Nah, I don’t, Tones. You guys are just worried over nothing. I’ve had worst than this.”

“Fine, but if you die on me, know I will be very crossed.”  
  


* * *

  
There was something odd about Clint Barton that Bucky couldn’t put his finger on. Not that this was a bad odd, because Clint was pretty much unusual to all the people he was used to spending his time with. There was just  _ something  _ there made him curious. That sparked an itch in the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite scratch. Asking Barton straight out what’s his deal would get him nowhere and risk pissing him off. The guy was smarter than he seemed so just going behind his back to look in Shield records or talk to even Natasha or Bobbi wasn’t going to work either. 

He just had to wait and see, he supposed and hoped Clint could trust him eventually.

The answer or at least part of one came a week after Clint’s fall when he walked into the gym’s showers. Bucky wasn’t even sure why he was in here or what he was doing. He wasn’t going to snoop through the clothes the guy had thrown over the bench, but he wasn’t beyond taking a look as he passed through.

And there it was, that old bandage just laying under the purple shirt. It looked like old ace bandages that have seen better days, hand stitches keeping them together. Christ, they smell old too. Not that he was sure Clint even washed them beyond to get the blood off. Now, the pieces were coming together in his head.

This is why Clint avoided medical, why he’s never seen the guy wear a tank top, or why he sometimes didn’t like being touched. Bucky’s heart jolted to his throat as he studied the bandages, gently ghosting his fingers over them with a soft sigh. No wonder Clint hadn’t told him. This was a hard thing to trust people with and...well, back in his day, people got killed for this and no one blinked an eye. Things might be better now but that  _ worry  _ and caution were still there.

He sees the bandages again when they’re in a Shield caravan. Clint is holding gauze to his side and gritting his teeth as every little bump shakes him. He can see the sweat on the man’s temples and smell the iron from the blood. It’s bad. That bullet had dug deep and while Bucky’s swift hands had been able to get it out rather efficiently, no one liked to take a bullet out without something to block the pain. 

Clint didn’t question why Bucky didn’t demand he takes his shirt off. He just rolled it up along with the bandage and pretended not to notice as he used a pair of tweezers to pull the small explosive out of the man’s side. 

“How far you think he got?” Clint groaned, his eyes squeezing shut harder as they started to make a turn. 

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, Barton. There were plenty of guys around us.” 

“Idiot,” Clint grumbled, not that Bucky took the taunting to heart. The guy was in lots of pain. “You gave Agent Fitz that little explosive that was shot into me. How far do you think he got before it exploded on him?”

“Not far. He neutralized it with something he called the  _ night-night spray. _ Took it down to the lab to analyze it.”

When Barton’s eyes opened to take in Bucky’s stoic face to see if he was serious or not, Bucky felt some relief to seeing those crystal clear blue eyes. Funny, how that this was his favorite color. 

“You’re serious?” 

“One hundred and one percent.”

_ “Night-night spray _ , what the hell.” He groaned again, turning a shade of green as they started to stop. Clint attempted to stand up, but Bucky caught him as he started to fall. 

“Hey,” the blonde breathed, face pressed into Bucky’s chest. “Thanks for not...removing the shirt. Means a lot to me.”

Bucky’s mouth opened to reply, unsure of what he was even going to say but Clint was already passed out in his arms. Already a Shield medical team had thrown open the doors and were taking the passed out blonde from his arms, leaving Bucky with very little time to consider he should’ve said something to Clint.

Clint was right, he was an idiot.  
  


* * *

  
Despite the archer had thanked him for not removing his shirt or the bandages, Clint had started to avoid him, Bucky noted. He was avoiding everyone, actually. The only person who he willingly let in his space was Natasha and Bucky wasn’t quite sure if that was because Natasha forced her way in or because of their shared connection that no one could quite match.

Not that he was jealous of this connection. Natasha was special to him too on some level and she knew it, but there was just  _ something  _ there between them that prevented him from going after Clint fully. 

That didn’t change the fact that Clint now avoided the gym’s showers if someone was in the gym. He avoided changing clothes with them when it came to mandatory sparring and training and even avoided assistance with stretching. He’d seen the man soaked to the bone with sweat and limping take the long way back to his floor to go shower. Hell, he had even offered his floor since it was closer than Clint’s but the archer declined.

It almost made him think he’d done wrong by taking that explosive out of Clint. Like, he was avoiding him because he was afraid that he might judge him. It bugged him, like an annoying buzz in the back of his head. There was that thought, late at night that made him want to barge into Clint’s room and tell him that he didn’t judge him, but that would do more harm than good.

Clint deserved this secrecy.

There was the matter of touch too now. Normally Clint didn’t like to be touched unless he saw you coming, Bucky understood that because he was the same way on his rare bad days. But now Clint avoided hugs and touches that weren’t handshakes altogether. 

This made itself known when Tony was drunk and laying in Steve’s lap as they sat in the communal living room, watching whatever movie Steve had picked out for them. Just by pure luck, Clint was sitting right beside Bucky, legs were drawn up to his chest as he could make his 6’3 body somehow smaller. 

He looked almost so vulnerable, his eyes glazed over, and mind hundreds of miles away. Bucky just wanted to shelter him, despite Clint could [barely] take care of himself, instead, he kept his eyes trained on the TV and focused on listening to Clint’s uneven breathing.

When the movie ended, Clint was the first one up and retreating to the kitchen with the excuse of drinks. Bucky couldn’t help but watch, throwing an arm over the back of the couch to keep his eyes trained on him. He hadn’t even noticed Tony had stumbled out of Steve’s lap and into the kitchen. 

The next thing Bucky knew, Clint had shoved Tony away and was retreating to the stairs. Tony turned to look at him with a pout on his lips and a shrug on his thin shoulders. “All I did was offer him a hug? The guy looked so put out. Didn’t even touch him much.”

“You tried to face-plant into his chest like you do all of us,” Steve sighed, walking around the couch to lead Tony back to their little love nest. “It’s okay, Tones. Clint is just…” He looked across to Natasha and Bucky for help, shrugging his shoulders.

“Give him a few days to calm down,” Natasha said in a calm voice. “Clint is just on edge after spending a week in Shield’s med bay. No one likes it there.”

Bucky could just imagine why. Come to think of it, he hadn’t even seen the bandages since then.  
  


* * *

_  
“Mr. Barnes.”  _

_ “Hm?” _

_ “I know it is currently four in the morning, but you’ve been urgently requested by Mr. Barton.” _

Bucky tried to ignore how his heart jerked at the AI’s words. He just nodded and set the bowl of popcorn down, pausing the cheap horror movie he’s put on for company.

“Where is he now? I thought he was still on that mission with Coulson?”

_ “Records say he returned to HQ at 2:38 am and reached the Tower at 3:39 am. He is in his room, Mr. Barnes.” _

A whole month without Clint and Bucky had to admit he was a little on edge not knowing about the guy. They’d kept in contact as friends did, texting back and forth, mission updates, and friendly chat about what went on in the tower-like how Thor had put yet another hole through Tony’s ceiling, but beyond that, it had been strained. He wasn’t sure why but he suspected Natasha had something to do with them talking.

“Is he okay? Tell him I’m on my way.”

Nothing good happened at four in the morning, no matter who was up or why. He doubted Clint was calling him to see him and spend time together, so Bucky’s mind naturally focused on the worst possibilities.

_ “He is experiencing levels of panic and asks if you can hurry. Mr. Barton also asks if you may bring a pair of scissors.”  _

Bucky stopped, mid-step at that request. Scissors? Sure, he had a pair but why the hell would Clint need scissors? Instead of questioning the messenger, he just thanked JARVIS and booked it up the three flights of stairs to Clint’s floor.

When he arrived, he found Clint pacing the length that was his living room. It was dimly lit in here and the black-out curtains were drawn over the floor-to-ceiling windows. The man’s tactical gear laid in parts, strewn across the floor until Clint was just left in a sweat-soaked shirt and his sweat-pants. The outfit made no sense, but neither did the hurried and tense atmosphere that Clint gave off.

The man looked different, as one would expect after you’d been gone for a month. He had some scruff along his jawline, a few patches darker than others. Even under the dim light, Bucky could see a few scars. His hair had grown rather fast over the weeks. It was no longer that soft, blonde hair that looked fluffy to touch. Instead, it was lengthy and a few strands fell into his face and covered the tips of his ears. 

“Okay,” Bucky sighed, causing Clint to jump, “what’s so important that I had to pause  _ Dracula  _ to bring scissors?”

The archer stopped before him, more than a few feet between them. His body language alone told Bucky how nervous he was. His hands were shoved into his pockets and he was rocking back and forth on his heels. He was doing that thing where he tucked his shoulders in that made him look somehow smaller.

“Why were you watching that cheap-ass movie?” He asked instead of answering Bucky’s question.

“Bad night.” That explained it all, the assassin’s shoulders shrugging. Clint’s eyes widened in understanding and he gave a weak, little nod. 

“Nightmares?” It didn’t even need to be questioned, but at least the admission had brought Clint a few steps closer. Christ, he smelled too, like he hadn’t showered in weeks. “Did you bring the scissors? JARVIS said you were coming, I…”

The man looked so relieved when he held up the pair of fluorescent orange scissors, almost like he would cry. “Course I did, now what is this about? You stuck in your shirt? Did you skip medical again?”

The last thing Bucky had expected was for Clint to grow an almost panicked look on his face. It reminded him of a deer facing a potential prey, terrified and poised to run.

“N-no,” he eventually stuttered, eyes dropping straight back down to the floor again. “Can you cut my hair? Please? You’re the only person up this-this late and it’s...too late to go to a barber and I need to shower and I don’t think I can…”

Clint only stopped rambling when Bucky had touched his cheek, the soft, flesh fingers on his jawline making him nearly melt into the touch. Bucky couldn’t help the small smile on his lips as he saw how relieved Clint looked when he nodded. 

“Course, man,” he breathed, knowing hearing your answer being confirmed calmed anxiety just as well. “Of course I can, no questions asked, but uh...no promises on how it looks. I’m a soldier, not a barber.”

“No,” Clint disagreed, immediately taking Bucky by the wrist and dragging him to the stool pulled out in the kitchen. A pizza box sat on the counter, the food long forgotten about in his anxiety. “You’re an amazing friend.”

Bucky couldn’t respond, not when his heart had swelled into his throat. He just gave a near watery smile and sat Clint down, using a kitchen towel to drape over his shoulders. 

He had to clear his throat and flex the scissors in his metal hand, damn Clint for making him emotional. “JARVIS, turn the lights up, please. A mirror too in a few minutes. Thanks.”

Look, he’d been honest, he wasn’t a barber. His hair cuts did not always pan out well, even before Hydra, even back in the 40’s when he’d cut Steve’s hair. They weren’t the best, but he’d actually tried with Clint, knowing just how much this meant for him and how much he needed this for his psychosis and anxiety. He’d used a photo that JARVIS had brought up for him and Clint together, taken by some journalist of Stark Inc. for reference. He’d gotten damn well close, back to the normal state of puffy, soft hair, and no longer a greasy mess.

It might’ve helped that after carefully cutting his hair, Bucky had taken the time to gently wash the blonde’s hair in the sink. This was the most calming part, nearly as much as the scissors were in their repetitive motion. Gently scrubbing the shampoo into his hair until it suds up, using a comb to make sure each strand was nice and sudsy before being washed out and replaced with a soft, smelling conditioner.

Clint looked relaxed in his hands, a small smile pulling on his full lips. Bucky might’ve actually kissed him right then and there had it not been for how exhausted Clint’s breathing was growing by the time he’d washed the conditioner out of his hair.

“Get some sleep,” He encouraged after towel drying his head. “After you shower, man, no offense but you stink.”

“Like you smell better, grease-ball,” Clint shot back, more at ease now that the tension had melted from his shoulders. He paused as he got off of the stool, looking back over his shoulder to eye Bucky up and down. “Stay with me?”

“Of course I will.” The answer came before Bucky could even think of the question or any meaning behind it. All he knew was the fact he said it made Clint’s face lit up like Christmas was around the corner.  
  


* * *

  
Clint isn’t too surprised when he gets to his floor two days after they’d spent the night together, to find it spotless. He’d spent the morning being yelled at by Fury over some mistake or another [not that he paid attention] delaying him from returning to see Bucky for a few short minutes before he was sent off to join Natasha and Bobbi on their mission in Denmark.

Bucky had texted him that there was a surprise waiting for him when he got home and that he’d already missed him. Shortly followed by not to think too much about the present.

Bucky must’ve cleaned his entire apartment while he was away. The trash was taken out, the dishes were cleaned and put up, even the windows were open to let fresh air into the living room. The blankets were perfectly folded over the back of the couch, towels were picked up, and his clothes were done and folded in the hamper.

And there the present was, sitting in a purple and red box with a note pinned to the top, under a bright red bow. The outside of the note just said  _ read me. _

Whose he to argue with a note?

_ Clint, _

_ This isn’t how I wanted to give you these, but I guess there’s no choice. Inside are three binders, I had to guess your size, but going by your shirt size and the chat guy’s helpful suggestions, I think they’ll fit perfectly.  _

_ I know, okay? I’ve been knowing for a few weeks now and I didn’t want to force your hand to tell me or make you feel like you have to tell me because you don’t. I just don’t want you to feel like that was an option. _

_ You don’t even have to wear these, okay? I know how you are about holding onto the past and comfort and what naught, but I just wanted these to be an option. A few online boards just said that the bandages you use are bad for your overall health and I got worried, okay? I know Shield might’ve taken your bandages, so I wanted to replace them. _

_ Christ, I’m Steve all over, just rambling on here. _

_ Look, just...know I still like you, alright? You’re still one of my closest friends and nothing is changing that, no matter what. You’re very dear and special to me and I didn’t want to overstep some boundary by telling you that I knew. You’re still the annoying Barton that I know and would love to continue to know and maybe eventually go on a few dates with if you’re okay with that? _

_ You don’t have to wear the things, but just consider it. Just text me when you get done with the binders, okay?  _

_ James _

  
  


It might be pitch black in this safe house, but Bucky still smiles when his phone lights up and he’s greeted with a selfie of Clint wearing the black body-length binder.

_ Looking good, Barton. - JB _ _   
_ _ How does it fit? - JB _

_ Amazing. I can actually breathe in it. It doesn’t feel like it’s about to fall apart on me if I get caught in the rain. - CB _ _   
_ _ [Delayed] On a more...important note, just...thank you. - CB _

_ You don’t have to thank me, Clint. I mean it. - JB _ _   
_ _ I’m glad I could help you. I’m sorry if I overstepped any boundaries. - JB _

_ No, you didn’t. You just reminded me how I don’t need to push you or the team away. - CB _

_ I’m sorry that I did. - CB _ _   
_ _ And if it’s not too much, I’d like that date. - CB _

_ I think I would like that too. - JB _ _   
_ _ We can discuss the details later. Just get some rest, please? - JB _

_ For you? Anything. - CB _


End file.
